


A Symphony on Ice

by PandasFiction



Series: Writing Requests [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Fluff, Georgewastaken, Ice Skating, M/M, Oneshot, RPF, dreamnotfound, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandasFiction/pseuds/PandasFiction
Summary: And so the cruel symphony began to softly play under them.George looked like he belonged on the ice. The way his feet followed one after the other, the way his slender fingers reached down to gently touch the ice. The way the blades reflected the lights of the rink around him, the way his chest rose and fell with each concentrated breath.Dream felt the world in a different life, watching him dance so softly on the ice.The symphony exploded with life.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Writing Requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111427
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	A Symphony on Ice

When they had met, it had not been fireworks, or blooming flowers, or cheering.

There were no tremendous big combustions, no worlds colliding into each other, and no floating feelings.

There was a silent symphony underneath it all, but it was quiet; the song it sang was insultingly dreadful.

Their eyes meeting across the airport lobby felt foreign; soft smiles graced both’s faces, of course, but it was not that either had imagined.

It was slightly awkward; the air inside the airport felt mockingly tense.

But now, out of all the moments Dream and George shared, was the one to summon the symphony’s sickeningly sweet song.

The second George had taken a single step onto the ice, Dream felt the fireworks, the flowers, the overwhelming sweet feelings of euphoria. 

George, in all honesty, did not like Florida. From the moment he stepped off the plane, complaints of humidity had come spilling from his lips. 

Then, he complained about the infrastructure, then the swamps, then the overbearing heat.

Dream tanked it, respectfully so. Despite their arguments on just about everything, Dream had uneasy feelings of disappointment that George had not grown to love the city and state for which he lived. 

Dream carefully brought George to every restaurant he grew up eating, to no avail. No lake seemed to impress George. No amount of beach visits left any lasting impression on his European friend.

But, by pure mistake, Dream took an early left turn on the way back from a theater he had not visited often.

George had spotted it from miles away; the old, run-down ice rink that Dream imagined closed down years ago. Dream could not ignore George’s piqued interest; after they pulled into the parking lot, Dream felt that he had seen sparkles in the smaller man’s eyes.

When they paid for entry and acquired their rental skates, Dream found George’s hands expertly tying his skates; a soft smile on his face, ignorance towards the cold. George had done this before; many times, Dream concluded.

Dream, on the other hand, had not.

But seeing George step onto the ice and vanish at the moment nearly gave him enough determination to believe so.

And so the cruel symphony began to softly play under them.

George looked like he belonged on the ice. The way his feet followed one after the other, the way his slender fingers reached down to gently touch the ice. The way the blades reflected the lights of the rink around him, the way his chest rose and fell with each concentrated breath.

Dream felt the world in a different life, watching him dance so softly on the ice.

The symphony exploded with life.

George’s slender legs danced one after the other, gathering speed, hands reaching out into nothing. It was a kind reaching; the rink’s lights glimmered in his eyes.

He gracefully dodged the other attendees with sickeningly sweet ease. He leaned his weight carefully on his left skate, allowing his right leg to swing out onto the ice, throwing him into a soft circle.

This time, when George’s eyes met Dream’s, they felt the flowers finally bloom around them.

The symphony sang a song of stunningly kind adoration, brandished with cunning blandishments.

When George met Dream at the doorway of ice, he held out his small and slender hand as support.

“I didn’t know you could skate, George,” Dream breathed his reply, his eyes focused on George’s. A soft smirk spread on George’s face, sending Dream into a state of hysteria. 

“Oh come on,” George mocked, shaking his hand to invite Dream’s into it. 

When their hands met, Dream felt sickening feelings of heat rushing to his chest, despite being shockingly underdressed for such an event.

George’s hand was cold; he dug his skates softly into the ice to pull Dream onto it. In a split second, Dream found his skates slipping from underneath him; George used his spare hand to set it on Dream’s waist. 

The symphony hiccupped, as did Dream’s heart.

Dream thought George was _too_ close; the shorter man was less than a foot in front of him, holding him steady, hands soft wrapped around him, _wrapped around his heart._

Dream could smell the cologne George wore; it flustered him. Dream briefly wondered if he preferred the formerly disappointed George; it was much easier to manage than his blatant attack on Dream’s emotions.

George softly guided Dream along to the side of the rink away from the doorway, soft fingers grasping softly at his side, kindly helping him along.

“See Dream,” George spoke, eyes watching Dream’s skates. “Softly, softly. Now push using your left skate,” George instructed, standing in front of Dream, hand still in his. Dream listened with kind adulation, watching him tremble in the cold, guiding his steps.

“Now, with the right. There you go, Dream. You got it, you got it!” George chuckled, a soft smile on his face. When he looked up, he found himself peering into Dream’s uncertain eyes, hand gripping tightly around George’s.

“You’re really good at this,” Dream muttered, eyes peering kindly into the brown eyes of his closest friend. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”

“I can tell,” George remarked, a smirk gracing his face, squeezing Dream’s hand softly, skates pushing back on the ice, pulling Dream along with him.

George’s hand around Dream’s waist fell away; his cold, slender fingers remained wrapped around Dream’s much larger hand. 

George pivoted on his blades, turning his gaze to peer out in front of them.

The symphony seemed to enter a measure of allegro; the song was sharp.

George pushed off the ice softly, at first, pulling Dream along with him. As he gradually grew speed, he found himself turning around from time to time to observe the concentration sprawled across Dream’s face, eyes glued to his skates, narrating the motions on his lips.

As his strides became faster and faster, he found Dream trying his very best to stay along; his grasp on George’s hand would become tight when he was uncertain in his own footing. In turn, George would slow for a moment, watching Dream’s feet, until he found rhythm once more.

The symphony slowed, but it was a reflection of reverence the two shared.

Despite how cold he felt, George found warmth in watching Dream try his hardest to skate.

He, then, also felt the kind adulation growing in his chest.

The warm hand in George’s translated adoration feelings; careful and kind movements pulled Dream close to him once more.

“You’re better than I thought,” George breathed out, a smile caught on the edges of his lips, a cloud of warmth leaving his lips. Dream stared at George adoringly so.

“I had a good teacher,” Dream remarked, his voice low and tender.

The harsh rink light landing on George’s face created beautiful shadows that danced as he moved; Dream found himself staring for a moment before his eyes met back with the comfortable brown he had come to love.

Dropping his hand from George’s, Dream began to pull his hoodie off from the back hood. 

“Hey, catch!” Dream said, balling his hoodie up and throwing it at George. Hitting George in the face, it forced him to take a step back, fumbling it in his hands before catching it. Holding it in his hands, George gave a puzzled look, cocking his head to the side.

“You’re cold,” Dream chuckled, straightening out his shirt. “And short and old. That’s like a double whammy for temperature control.” 

“I did _not_ come all the way to Florida _just_ to be bullied,” George remarked, pulling the large hoodie over his head. Hiking the sleeves, Dream found a small smile on his own face. 

“You should say thank you, I basically saved your life, Georgie,” Dream purred, moving towards the wall of the rink, leaning against the barrier.

“Saved my life? If I just walked off the ice right now, you’d probably be stranded here for hours. What would poor Dreamie do without me?” George teased before giving an inquisitive look on why Dream had moved to lean against the wall.

“Oh sure, George,” Dream laughed before pointing out into the ice. “Go skate. I’m not that fast, so I’m kinda holding you back. Plus, this whole skating thing kinda hurts,” Dream spoke, clearing his throat.

“You okay?” George immediately asked, causing Dream’s chest to fill with warmth.

“Of course, I’m not old and small like you,” Dream remarked; despite his banter, his expression gave away hints of absolute adoration.

“You’re just bad,” George remarked, eyes meeting his, reflecting a smile back at Dream. Hiking his blade into the ice, he spoke again. “It’s not fun without you.” 

“Skating, I mean.”

_Oh George._

So when George held his slender hand out towards Dream, he took it with a particular kindness. Pushing off the ice, George carefully pulled Dream along, slowly at first, letting him gather his strides.

This time, when George gathered Dream had found his footing, he let his hand fall from Dream’s, testing how well he’d learned.

Turning his head to watch Dream, George watched Dream stumble for a moment, losing his focus, scrambling to find his stride once more.

“GEORGE!” Dream yelled, arms splaying out in a desperate attempt to grab at gravity. George found a soft chuckle rising in his throat, slowing his stride to fall behind Dream. He quickly pushed forward, placing shaky hands-on Dream’s waist to stabilize him.

“Stop freaking out,” George remarked from behind Dream. “You’re messing up because you’re scared.”

As the symphony entered a measure of silence, Dream felt sharp warmth driving into his chest; he left a breath fall from his lips, it left a beautiful cloud of warmth.

George found himself pushing Dream along the ice, fingers curling around Dream’s warm waist softly, letting reassurance fall from his lips. 

“See?” George purred. “Look, look! Push off with your right to turn… There you go,” George’s words intertwined closely with delicacy. He lifted his fingers slowly from Dream’s waist, hovering over it only centimeters away, ready to ground Dream if he needed.

The symphony was tender in its odd sort of way; it rang softly between the two.

“George,” Dream breathed out, pushing softly along the ice. “How… How do I stop?” 

“Stop pushing on the ice,” George whispered. “Now… Throw out your right blade horizontally in front of you… Softly, softly, Dream.”

As on cue, Dream found himself standing still on the ice. With a few careful steps, he turned around to face George. George kept his hands hovered over Dream’s waist; when he looked up to meet Dream’s gaze, he found those beautiful shadows dancing softly on his face.

He watched Dream face for a moment. He found himself unable to read his emotions.

The symphony was mockingly sweet, now.

Dream’s hands fell over George’s, pressing them softly to Dream’s waist. Dream’s right hand moved slowly towards George, swirling thoughts filling his mind.

_You are so beautiful, George._

_You never leave my mind, do you?_

_Oh George._

“Can I kiss you?” Dream breathed out. George’s sharp brown eyes met with Dream’s, falling soft, a small, uncertain smile on his face.

George answered; His hand moved from Dream’s waist, reaching towards his face, pulling him down to meet his lips.

They were cold, but intoxicatingly so; the ice rink fell away, the symphony roared with a sweet nothing.

_Oh Dream._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to submit writing requests here: https://forms.gle/Wr3eAzBcWMxgYKBN8
> 
> Requested by Anonymous.


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